Corpsman, Up!
by Lady Akyrial
Summary: The story of an interfering Vala and a modern peredhel, misplaced. AU elements with OC. Rated K for initial violence.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Aule stood quietly before the Valar at Mahanaxar. The center of judgment, usually reserved for the firstborn, was now held for him. He looked up to his seat and saw his wife sitting beside it quietly. He looked at the sorrow in her eyes, the pain of knowing that judgment would be fulfilled soon. His impetuousness, 'impatience' as Yavanna called it, was folly again.

Sweet Iluvatar, he thought, let my brother understand and have mercy.

Manwe looked at the Vala before him. He saw the silent strength and understood the compassion his brother had, but this was too much – meddling in the affairs of Arda reborn – the age of Men, was forbidden by Iluvatar himself. Taking a breath, he stared at his brother before he began.

"Aule, you are here today because you have interfered in the course of a human's life. The One Being, himself, has decreed that the fifth age of man was not to be disturbed by the Valar. We are to watch and report on man's development and prepare for the time of the last song. You were given grace when you created the dwarves, and we held hope when you fought against Melkor and assisted the Noldor's return to Arda, but this last incident has created an uproar and disturbed the balance of the Great Song. Why, my brother have you disobeyed the Great One?" he asked, painfully, slowly, as if fearing the answer.

"Brother, I had no choice. It was by my hand that Melkor destroyed Eregion and the Firstborn, and I could do nothing except save a few Noldor children. One child, alone, carried the legacy of the great artisans from Eregion – I could not allow him to die, and then I learned that his father had survived, but they were separated. This child was the victim of Melkor's minion, Sauron. His destiny was not meant to be written such as it was. The human's destiny is tied to the Firstborn, for they are related. You also know that it was my children, the ones that Iluvatar had taught, that were divided and fought against the Firstborn in the first age, and allied themselves to the Firstborn in the Third Age. In my folly, I created them, for I so dearly wanted children to love, and now in my folly I had mercy upon one who was born out of her time. Her birth was unforeseen and would have jeopardized the last age of man had I not interfered; but I did not do it for my glory, I meant only to unite a house long divided. My brother, I seek your forgiveness for acting without your consent, and I beg the forgiveness of Iluvatar for my rash actions."

Manwe and the Valar sat and reflected upon the deeds of Aule. Once again, he had acted rashly, but yet, his motives were pure. He did not act out of malice or ambition, but still, there had to be consequences. A human, no peredhel, being sent back to Arda of old was unacceptable, yet she could not be punished for the stupidity of his brother's sentiments. Her existence created difficulties with the choice given to the children of Earendil. This child of the two races would need to be given the choice between the Grace of the Eldar and the Gift of Man; but Aule had not considered this. Ultimately, the Great Song was changed, and the consequences could be detrimental to the destinies of the First Born. For the first time in all of his existence, he, Manwe, first of the Valar, felt a headache. This is what Elrond suffered, he mused.

"Aule, you will wait here for our return. We will deliberate in private." Saying this, Manwe and the other Ainur faded from their chairs and went to the Enchanted Isles to speak freely. Eonwe stood before the Vala and smiled, waiting for his Liege to return.

Earendil crossed the sky three times and Ithil rose quietly to watch over the Vala as he awaited his brethren and sisters' return. Finally, on the fourth rise of Anor, they returned without fanfare and sat upon their chairs. Yavanna rose and walked to her husband, taking his hand silently as a lone tear slid down her face.

Manwe stood and the sky darkened considerably. "Aule, my brother, after much deliberation and consideration of not only your actions, but the fate of Arda, we have decided your fate. Our judgment is tempered by the fact that you acted in mercy, but we are still in the position that you did not consider the free will of the life you have affected. We hold you responsible for this life, and decree that you must atone for your actions by living on Arda as one of the Atani until you find the lost eldar that fathered this peredhel. You will not have the Gift of Man, and neither blade nor illness will affect you. When you find the lost Eldar and he willingly returns to Aman, this judgment will be lifted and you will be free to resume your place amongst us."

Looking at Yavanna, the serene, Manwe addressed her next. "My sister, you are wife to Aule. I neither hold you in judgment nor condemn you to his fate, but I ask you, do you wish to have the opportunity to visit him one per yen?"

"I would agree to this fate, my Lord. I would visit him with your grace and blessing once per yen."

"Then so be it, as it is sung in the Great Song, let it be done according to Iluvatar's will."


	2. Sailing

Sedilwen stood silently on the deck of the white ship – looking over the ocean and scanning the horizon. The wind buffeted around her, lifting her hair and causing it to fly randomly in the air. Feeling a presence, she turned and looked up into the smile of the blond elf, Lord Elrond's captain.

"You are spending too much time here, Sedilwen. Are you well?" he asked gently.

"Aye, Glorfindel, I am. I am lost in my memories, nothing more. It has been a long time for me, my friend. My perception of time is different than yours."

Glorfindel considered the mystery that surrounded his friend. She was an enigma. He knew from Elrond and Erestor that she was of Arda remade, but he didn't know the details, and had only asked once. He waited patiently and was rewarded when she continued.

"I remember coming to Arda, my death, and the acceptance that the elves have given me. At one point, I did not believe in such fantasy stories, and yet, for the many yeni, I have lived in them. It is amazing to me that I was given this chance by the Valar."

"Ah, the sea brings about this time of reminiscence. We have spoken many times of your life, but I have never asked you one question. Why Erestor? Why do you hold such loyalty and allegiance to him? Why have you protected him, oft times with your own life?"

"Are you really sure that you want to know that answer, Mellon-nin? Sometimes things are better left unspoken," she answered quietly.

"Do you love him?" His question stretched into a long uncomfortable silence. Sedilwen looked up at him and saw the tenseness of his jaw. _Dear Valar, he was worried about this, but it didn't feel like jealousy. Concern?_

"With my heart and soul, but not for the reasons that most would think," she finally offered, breaking the silence.

"Then how?" he asked quietly, patiently trying to understand her allegiance.

"He is my brother."

The words struck his heart with simplicity. He looked at her, his mouth agape at her confession. By the Valar, he could see the resemblance and suddenly everything became clear to him. Her quietness, reluctance to socialize, affinity for books, ability to argue even a warg out of a fresh kill; everything. She was a female Erestor. The Valar truly had a sense of humor.

"Sedilwen, you have never told me your story about how you came to Arda. I once asked Erestor and Elrond, but both told me that it was your story to tell. Would you share it now with me?"

She looked up at him and stared at his blue – gray eyes. They were so intense, yet full of curiosity. Smiling, she shook her head. "Glorfindel, my life started with my death. I was in a battle – in the far distant future, where the age of man was at peril. I remember hearing the words, 'Corpsman up.' This is the battle cry to assist warriors that are wounded…"

"Corpsman, Up!" The words resounded in Kate's ears. She glanced in the direction and saw one of the marines laying on the battlefield…his hands covering his abdomen and his moans coming toward her over the metallic rhythm of rifle fire.

This was not what it was supposed to be like…the reserves were, well…they were supposed to be an easy way to make money and go to school…they weren't supposed to take someone, anyone, to the hell of a battlefield. Never in a million years had she anticipated that she would actually have to do anything outside of drills. She shook her head…yep, one weekend a month and two weeks out of a year…um hmm…the recruiter was a lying piece of bovine excrement…but in all actuality, she did know it was a possibility…she wasn't that naïve…but the probability had seemed low when she signed on. _Kate, what have you gotten yourself into?_

Shifting her attention back to the scene in front of her, she crept low to the man on the ground…her desert camos helping her to blend with the sand…not that it much mattered…anything that was laying on the ground was an easy target…the open desert offered little protection from stray bullets, creepy crawlies with stingers, and IEDs. One never knew what surprises the sand held.

She looked down into the man's eyes and was surprised at the depth and color that stared back at her. They were blue, like her own… "Ma'am…Leave me, Ma'am. It's too late for me," he whispered.

"Nonsense, marine…it is never too late. Let's see what you caught out here…perhaps a nasty little round?" Kate cut the material away from his abdomen and noted that the entry wound was small. There wasn't much blood, but his stomach was starting to distend. "Yep, stay with me, marine…you win the prize for catching the round of the day." Kate looked at him and saw him try to smile at her poor attempts at battlefield humor. She pulled out an auto syringe and hit him with a round of morphine before she attempted to move him back to the safety of her small trench. When his eyes glazed over, she knew that the painkiller was working; and she slowly began the long pull backwards.

It was funny in a way…he was tall, probably near 7 feet if he were an inch, and had a solid frame, but he was almost too light… and the pulling was fairly easy. She glanced back and saw that she had reached the halfway point. Encouraged, she continued her efforts until she heard the whine of the missile. It was too loud for her comfort…and it was coming closer. Seconds seemed like eternity…and she did in a split second what her instincts told her to do…she rolled onto the marine whose life she was trying to save…

Kate felt a strong shove and heard an explosion, before she knew she was hit. It was strange, but there was no pain…no sensation at all…she just looked down and laughed in shock to see that her feet and legs were doing a curious sort of dance about five feet from her body. She looked at the marine and locked eyes with him before he smiled sadly. "The Valar will guide you." he whispered. And then there was silence, as her eyes closed for the last time on Earth.

Kate heard the sounds of battle raging around her…the cries of anger and screams of pain overwhelmed her. She opened her eyes and saw a surreal picture of a feudal battle, medieval, complete with monsters and warriors…men and something else…beautiful beings that positively glowed with light. She tried to move and found that she was weighted down, covered by a grotesque being that smelled worse than death itself. Its yellow eyes open to a vacant stare, and its rotted moth open in a silent eternal scream…

She looked about and saw many such creatures lying down, and many other creatures…short, stubby little beings with long beards, men, and some of the creatures that seemed to glow. They were all either dead, dying, or too injured to fight any longer. She was sickened by the sheer, utter devastation of life that was before her…her mind began to close down as the reality of where she was and wasn't began to dawn on her. The memories of her recent death flooded over her…and the realization that she was in Hell brought her a strange sense of solace…_at least there is an afterlife, and I exist._

Her reflections were cut short when she saw a dark haired warrior fall before her, clutching his abdomen in shock as one of the little stubby beings finished a stroke with a battle-ax from his midsection. She heard the red bearded creature yell in victory, "Elves be damned…the Lord Sauron shall win this day over Gil-Galad and Elendil!" It was amazing to hear the deep Scottish brogue eminating from this ugly little creature as he ran off towards another of the fair beings.

Time seemed to stand still as Kate looked over to the tall being now lying prone on the ground. Her eyes locked with his and he gasped in surprise to see her staring at him. Slowly he shook his head and whispered something incomprehensible. She crawled over to him with a sense of deja vu and reached toward his mid-section. The armor he wore was neatly cleaved in two and she could see his hands holding his mid-section together. Gently she took them in her own and examined the wound…Shaking her head, she knew that this type of wound was not one that he would likely recover from, more than likely he would suffer a slow death. She looked into his eyes and smiled gently to comfort him. Again that feeling of Déjà vu washed over her, it was like she knew this being – but never had she seen him before.

She assessed the situation, realizing in an instant that she didn't have her kit with her…and musing why she would…she was dead after all…people didn't take belongings into the afterlife. Noting that she still wore her uniform, she was surprised to see that she still had her belt kit. Instinctively, she reached down for an auto-syringe and felt the last one slip into her palm. Without a second thought, she activated the syringe and administered the morphine to the being in front of her.

Erestor hissed at the sudden pain in his leg. He didn't understand how or why an elleth would be on the battlefield outside of Mordor, and why she was dressed as an ellon in the strange, light brown clothes. He looked about sadly for his friend, the herald to his king, …and was disappointed and worried that he was no where in sight. The last he knew, the peredhel was focused on fighting Sauron and protecting the Noldor king. He looked back to the elleth and asked her why she was there. When she didn't reply, he tried to move and was rewarded with blurred vision as she gently pushed him down. He watched her as she took out a cloth packet from her pocket, and began to laugh quietly when he saw her remove a needle and thread as she prepared to sew his stomach. _I hope she is a good seamstress…_

Kate watched as the morphine took hold of this being. She didn't understand him when he spoke to her…the language was musical, but very different from any language she had ever heard. When he started to laugh, she knew that the effects of the drug had reached their peak, and she began to stitch his abdomen. His eyes closed after a few minutes, and he seemed to slip into a deep sleep. Kate knew that the chance of infection was almost 100%, but if they survived this battle, he could be re-opened in better conditions and re-treated as necessary.

Concentrating fully on her patient, Kate was oblivious to the battle around her. She knew that saving this…this being… was imperative. She didn't know or care why, she just knew that it had to be this way. In her thoughts, even Hell had rules. She worked quickly and closed the wound with large clumsy sutures – and then thought about a battlefield dressing. She didn't have anything remotely sterile or appropriate, and so, making a quick decision, she opted to use her BDU jacket. After unhooking her belt, she quickly slipped out of the garment and wrest it into two pieces. The first she turned inside out and folded quickly into a pillow bandage. She did the same with the second and then released the extra length on her webbed belt to accommodate the wider waist of the man / being in front of her. As she finished cinching the belt, she felt an extraordinary pain tear through her right shoulder.

_Since when do dead people feel pain? _She mused. Looking down, she saw the point of an arrow protruding from her upper chest. _Amazing…_ Then her vision dimmed for the second time in one day and she fell forward onto the being she had just saved.

Elrond returned to the camp, exhausted and defeated. His brother's heir had betrayed them all. His King was dead. And he reeked of blood and sweat. Many elves had given their lives this day…for naught. Isildur had failed…he succumbed to the evil of the Ring…Elrond rued the day that he made the promise to his brother…the promise to protect all of Elros' descendents. So great was his anger, had Elrond not made that promise, he would have personally thrown Isildur into the fire of Orodruin. At this moment, he cursed his bittersweet human heritage. And thus, the herald of the Second Age of Arda began with Man's betrayal of the Elves.

Giving into his exhaustion, Elrond sat near one of the boulders and leaned back, slipping almost immediately into reverie. His mind was filled with terrible images of the battle he just finished…he woke when he revisited Gil-Galad's death. His foster father, his King, his friend…the one elf who restored his spirit and gave him life after his keeping with Maglor was slain in battle…for now, his grief overwhelmed him and his relief at waking was short lived. Grimly he watched as survivors were helped or carried into camp. The healers were drenched in blood and seemed to have a vacant look in their eyes. Their patients' misery and pain were reflected in their eyes, and they seemed to move quietly from one elf to the next – rendering what little palliative care they could before the majority passed to Mandos' Halls. One of the healers moved to the newest arrivals and looked upon a dark haired Noldor. He shook his head and began to gesture excitedly to his apprentice as he looked between the Noldor and another elf laying two stretchers away.

Sensing something amiss, Elrond rose wearily and walked slowly to the healers. "My friends, what is this that concerns you?"

"Master Elrond," the healer began, "the Lord Erestor has been gravely injured, but survives because of the efforts of this elfling." Gesturing toward the stretcher that Kate laid upon, the healer continued in amazement. "No one knows who she is or why she was in battle…but all agree that she saved Lord Erestor's life by tending his wounds. When they were found, she was laying on top of him, shielding his body with her own."

Elrond looked at his friend and examined his wound. The Noldor had been gutted from hip bone to hip bone, and sewn with a curious type of thread. He looked in amazement at the stitches and realized that the strange elf was probably a healer…but his curiosity was piqued by the mystery of how and why she was in the battlefield. Turning toward her, he noted that she was wearing a strange pair of leggings with a tight-fitting, sleeveless under-tunic. Aside from her clothes, he noticed that her hair was strangely fastened to her head and she had ears like his…pointed, but not so distinct as those of the Firstborn. She was lying on her stomach, with an arrow shaft protruding from her shoulder…and her color was an ashen gray. By all measures, Elrond knew that she was fading quickly.

"I will tend to her, Istuil…please get me some yarrow root and water. I want to take the arrow out and clean the injuries on both the youngling and Lord Erestor." Working quickly, he gently rolled her to her side and noted that the arrow had passed through her shoulder. Thanking the Valar for this blessing, he grabbed the shaft and pushed it quickly through the front. Changing his grip, he snapped the back of the shaft in his hands and quickly pulled the remainder out through the front, then surveyed the damage. Thankfully, this one wasn't poisoned and the wound looked fairly clean. He looked down at her and wondered why one so young was on the battlefield and where she had come from. As he pondered this, he quickly cleaned the wound and placed some stitches and bandaged her, before he turned his attention to Erestor.

Lord Erestor, the young ellon who survived the massacre of his people… the warrior that most ellon feared, laid quietly upon the stretcher, blissfully unaware of his surroundings. Elrond mused at the ellon's lack of responses, it was almost as if he had been given Poppy….but that was impossible out here. Such drugs were long depleted in the great war. Grimly, he removed the bandage and stared at the stitches across the elf's stomach. Although they were done hurriedly, he could see that they were neat and even… He extended his hand and let his fea "feel" the severity of damage. After a few moments, Elrond decided to leave the wound closed and use herbs to boost the elf's immunity to infection. Time would tell whether this choice was good, but time was what they all had now that Sauron had been defeated.


	3. Waking to the Elves

Chapter 3

Waking to the elves

Dimly, Kate heard the sing-song voices creeping into her level of consciousness. She heard the masculine tones speaking around her and painfully opened her eyes. The light bore into them as she tried to turn her head away. As she began to move, she felt a hand hold her down and a voice spoke quietly to her, or at least she thought it was speaking to her. She opened her eyes again and painfully focused on a pair of piercing gray eyes. The voice that matched the eyes was not harsh, but she could sense the authoritative tone that demanded obedience from her, even though she could not understand the words. Nodding her head, she quit trying to move and laid quietly on the bed. When she ceased her struggle, the man smiled at her and nodded before he gently began to poke at her shoulder.

Light seemed to explode around her and her body began to jerk involuntarily at the pain that was coursing through her back. She began to scream as the pain overwhelmed her senses and futilely began trying to push or pull away from him. She didn't care where she went, she just needed to get away. Away from the agony that seemed to drown her.

Elrond watched as the elfling screamed and began to fight. It was not uncommon for the wounded to wake thusly on the battlefield, but he was unprepared for the sheer terror and pain that washed over him empathically. Nodding to the other healers that were watching, he waited until they approached, and then he watched as they restrained her against the cot. Kneeling down, he placed his hand over her eyes and whispered a sleep spell that pushed her into unconsciousness.

He removed the bandages and noted that she had torn most of her stitches in the struggle. Sighing, he pulled out pieces and began to close her wound again. "Istuil, I think that we should have someone sit with her, for when she wakes up again. If she pulls these stitches out again, I will not be able to close her without leaving a large scar."

"She is very small, Elrond. How old do you think that she is?" the older healer asked, curiously.

"I do not think that she has seen more than 40 summers; and I am curious as to how she has learned her healing skills. Did you perchance, have the opportunity to see Lord Erestor's stomach? I find it remarkable that her stitches were so neat, considering she put them in on a battlefield."

Istuil and Elrond studied the girl for a few more moments. She was an enigma to them, and both had many questions that needed to be answered. Perhaps the most important question was who she was. As far as Elrond knew, he and his brother were the only peredhel in Arda, yet this girl was undeniably a mixture of the First and Second born. He knew and dealt with the prejudices of the First Born as he, himself, had come to age; thus it was a surprise to him that another should come from mixed parentage.

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Kate felt her pain slip away as she felt the darkness envelop her. The man's words were strangely comforting to her, and she felt a warmth envelop her as he spoke them. She relived her dream and saw the dark haired man being cleaved again across the mid-section. He seemed familiar to her, like he was a part of her or she was a part of him, and although she didn't know why, she knew that he would be important in her life.

Kate heard someone calling her name, softly at first, and then with more and more authority. Finally she was touched on her shoulder and she opened her eyes to look at the marine, who had died on the battlefield.

"Kate McAdams, you must wake up. We need to talk," his deep voice insisted.

She looked at him confused. "Aren't you dead?" she finally asked.

He smiled at her before answering. "Nay child, I am not dead. I was there to help you, when you were killed."

"Then I am dead," she confirmed. "Is this Heaven or Hell, because I didn't ever learn about dead people being killed again in their afterlives."

"You are dead to your world, Kate. I brought you to the Arda of the First Age, long before the time when you were born."

"I don't understand. Are you telling me that you brought me back in time?"

"Yes, child," he answered simply. "I brought you back, because you were born into the wrong time period. You are born of two races, the race of the Eldar and the race of Man. You were not meant to live or die in the time that you were in."

She looked at him, trying to understand if he got into her morphine while she was sleeping. "Why do you call me 'child' and who are you?" she asked quietly, hoping that she could understand his state of mind a little better.

"Kate, I am Aule, one of the singers in the Great Song. My brothers and sisters created the race of the Eldar and the Race of Man under the direction and guidance of Eru Illuvatar. He is the Great One, or Creator of all. I call you a child, because to me, you are one. I have existed for many thousands of years, and you have not even seen the age of twenty two."

She looked into his rich, brown eyes and felt, no, knew that he was telling her the truth. Sitting up, she looked around and noticed the room she was in for the first time. Her bed was absolutely huge, as if it were made for someone much larger than her; and the walls were a gentle white color. She studied the walls a bit longer and noted that they seemed to be of a carved stone, like marble. There were no windows or visible light sources, but the room was well lit and warm.

"Where are we?" she asked, hoping that he would tell her this was a dream.

"Yes, Kate," he offered, answering her unvoiced question. "This is a dream, but your fea and consciousness are in my hall. I brought you here to help you understand why these things are happening.

First, I brought you back to this time so that you could have another chance at life. Your father is an elf, and he fathered you with a daughter of man. Your true mother died in birth, and you were adopted by a family that I had chosen. Over time, I watched you grow into the young woman that you have become. Then, when you died, I brought you here, where you could have a chance to live with your brother – the son of your father.

This is the ellon that you saved in the battle. He does not know that you are his sister, but when the time is appropriate, my brother or I will tell him. When you awaken, you will live with the elves and become acquainted with him."

Kate stared at him, feeling very lost. In a matter of a few seconds, she learned that her whole life had been a lie, and she had a brother. She, who was an only child, now had a brother who was a mythical elf. Shaking her head, she fell back against the pillows. As she pondered his explanation, she felt herself getting angry. Very angry. This being had controlled and interfered in her whole life.

"What kind of an ass are you?" she sniped at him, after she caught her breath. "Who gave you the right to play God in my life? I didn't ask for any of this, and you just nonchalantly tell me that I have a brother, I saved his life, and I am going to live with him now. Are you going to mess with his life too? What if he doesn't want a sister? Did you think of this?"

Aule looked down upon his charge. 'She definitely had spirit, and would need it,' he mused. "Peace child, I know that you are angry, but all will work out in the end. You must rest now and return to Arda."


	4. Recovery

Chapter 4

Recovering

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Author's Notes: My sincere gratitude to all of those readers that have added me to their favorite lists and PM'd me. I appreciate all of the early help from Epi and Wendy as I sounded ideas off of them. To respond to those that have asked, I write from an outline, and the medical knowledge comes from personal occupational experience. Most of the earlier chapters are planned, but I am still working on the later details. I will slow the story down as I have to commit to research for the next few chapters. Thank you.

Lady A.

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After he had washed and eaten his dinner, Elrond returned to the healing tent. With all of his patients sleeping, he decided to sit and watch the elfing sleep for a while. Istuil joined him and they spoke quietly, exploring the possibilities of how she could have come to a battlefield.

"Master Elrond, she bears a resemblance to the Noldor, but she also looks like she is of the second born."

"Aye, she looks as if she is of mixed blood; but I am curious as to how. I know of only my brother and I being created of both the First and Second born. You are right though, my friend, she does bear resemblance to the Noldor."

Istuil thought for a few moments, before voicing his concerns. "How do you think she came to be in the middle of this battle? She did not act as a spy would, nor do I think that she is old enough to be a spy; and where did she learn the healing arts that she possesses?"

Elrond looked at his friend sharply for a moment, memories of his own past washing over him. "If she is of mixed parentage, she will undoubtedly have skills at a younger age than most elves. Well I remember my own past, living between two worlds and never quite fitting into either. My brother and I had the early maturity of men, but the physical grace of elves as we moved from elflings to adults. I fear it is the same with this one as well."

"My apologies, Master Elrond. I did not mean to question you or your heritage. I simply do not understand how the aging of peredhel occurs. Have you any idea about what we are going to do with her? We are leagues from any enclaves, and there are not many ellyth around to help with her. We can't even get her properly attired."

Elrond smiled briefly. "No offense taken, my friend. Given that there are no other resource available, I would feel the responsibility to care for her. I do not think that she would fare well with other elves at this point; she does not even seem to know our language, nor do I think that it would be fair to leave her in Cirdan's or Gildor's care."

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Kate woke to soft rustling sounds moving about her. Opening her eyes, she noted that one of the elves was leaving the tent. She studied the room intently and sighed when her eyes fell upon the elf that was supposed to be her brother. He was two cots over from her and seemed to be resting well.

As she further studied her environment, she noted two things. First, her entire shoulder was bound tightly with some sort of gauze, the second was that she wasn't wearing anything that was even remotely appropriate to moving around. Her BDU's were gone and replaced with a large type of tunic or tabard. Testing her arm, she found that her mobility on that side was completely restricted.

Memories of the dark haired man rushed back upon her. He seemed to be in authority, and brooked no opposition when it came to examining her. She could tell that he tried to be gentle, but the pain was excruciating when his fingers probed her wound. As she remembered the pain from before, she became aware of the throbbing in her shoulder. It was worse than any pain she had ever felt – far worse from the pain she had when she broke her leg, at twelve.

Kate was brought back to present when she heard her new brother moan. He moved his head slightly and was beginning to come back to consciousness. It was agony to sit up, but somehow she pulled herself up and wavered a bit before getting her strength. The pain in her shoulder moved from throbbing to sheer agony, and although she didn't cry out, the tears fell easily and silently from her eyes. Slowly and methodically she stood, before she staggered the five steps to his cot. She looked at him as she sank to the ground, and rested a few moments before taking his hand.

"Be still, brother. I don't know you, but I know that we are family," she whispered, as she touched her head to his hand. After a few minutes, she looked up and met his deep brown eyes with her own blue set.

Erestor woke up to the soft whisper of a voice, and stared into the eyes of a young elleth. He felt a feeling of familiarity with her, and then realized that this was the same elleth that helped him after he was nearly cleaved in two by the accursed dwarf. He looked down briefly and saw that his legs and hips were still attached to his trunk, so all was well; but the pain was nearing intolerable. He tried to speak to her, but all that came out was a raspy whisper, "Thank… you…"

Kate jumped at the sound of his voice. He sounded very hoarse, but was it from pain or from lack of water, she wondered. Looking about, she saw a small urn of water on the table and reached for it. Using her good hand, she was able to maneuver a cup into the vicinity of the spout, and she poured a small bit for him. She bit back a cry when her shoulder protested, but she continued and lifted the cup to his mouth. He seemed eager to drink, then nodded gratefully as she poured it very slowly into his mouth. When he was done, he nodded again.

Erestor wondered who the young elleth was. He didn't really think that she was pretty or stunning – instead, she seemed to be a bit plain. Looking at her, he contemplated that her hair was dark and her features were very angular, but surprisingly, her eyes were blue. All in all, she didn't have the daintiness that was normally attributed to ellyth, but he could see gentleness and compassion in her eyes. As he tried to talk to her, she seemed surprised; but then reached for some water for him. She winced a bit, and he realized that she also had been wounded in the battle. By the way that she favored her side, he guessed that her shoulder had been injured.

Kate sat with her brother and watched him as he stared up at her. Finally, she smiled and retook his hand into hers. He seemed to settle down quickly and drifted off after a few more minutes. Kate reached for the cup and took a small sip, only to realize that it was not water that she had given the elf. It was a clear liquid that had a slightly bitter taste. With a start, she realized that this was the same medicine that someone had given to her, when she had awoken earlier. Sighing, she reached back to her brother and brushed the hair from his face. She tried to get up, but the pain was too severe, so she sat against the legs of the cot and reflected about her new brother. Would he accept her? Her last thoughts as she drifted off were about that being, Aule, interfering in her life and who her father was.

************************************************************************

Istuil hurried back to the tent. He relieved Bregolan for the mid day meal and was a bit irritated that the novice healer did not wait for either him or Master Elrond to come to the tent. When he entered, he peered around and noted that all the patients were resting peacefully – except one. Where was the elfing? Before he could look further, he heard the soft rustle of the tent flap behind him. Hoping and praying to the Valar that it wasn't Master Elrond, he wasn't surprised to find that it was. His luck never held out…

"Istuil, where is our elfling?" he intoned deeply. Looking slowly around the room, Elrond stopped at the sight before him. Curled up to Erestor's cot, the elfling slept peacefully on the ground while still holding the young warrior's hand. The battle-weary warrior in him melted at such a sight of pure innocence as was before him. With all of the horror that his mind endured over the past age, this one precious site would be forever burned into his mind and begin his own recovery – the act of an elfling's love selflessly given to a wounded warrior.

Istuil stood in shock to see the elfing on the ground. What affinity did this elleth hold for Lord Erestor? Blinking away his surprise, he walked over to the warrior and checked his bandages and breathing. He noted that Master Elrond gently carried the elfling back to her bed and examined her as well. Istuil could see that her bandages were askew, and went to retrieve new bandages for both his and Master Elrond's work.

Elrond noted that the elleth's stitches did not pull after her short expedition to Erestor's cot. He thought that it was odd that she didn't wake, until Istuil pointed out that the pain draught was nearly empty and the cup was on the floor. It seemed that she and Erestor had both drank a fair amount without a healer's supervision. He would have to talk to the novice healers about leaving their charges unattended.


	5. A New Beginning

Erestor watched carefully as the masons were setting the middle course of the new bridge. It was only three weeks ago that the recovering warriors had diverted the Bruinen to set the footings for this bridge. Many, including himself, had set aside their swords to embrace the healing that this new dawn of peace brought forth. Lord Elrond both welcomed and encouraged their endeavors in creating their new home. But, he mused, it was designed to be accessible only by way of the bridge. The great cliffs rested behind the main house, and protected the inhabitants by their sheer altitude. Even though there was peace now, it was still prudent to oversee the security of this new realm.

Lord Elrond had created quite a stir among the elven leaders when he refused to accept the throne in the high king's stead; many of the elves respected this decision, but there were a few who considered him weak. After all, his twin had become the first king of men; it should have been his destiny. Only a few, including himself, knew why Elrond had chosen against the throne.

His ponderings were interrupted as he watched the young girl approach. She was a quiet girl and seemed to be making gains in their language. Her recovery had been as slow and pained as his had been. Unlike the warriors that worked before him, she did not complain as her shoulder had healed. He didn't understand what affinity she had for him, but she had stayed by him as they both recovered, and she was very concerned for his well-being. Lord Elrond and he had spoken many times about her and her skills, her mixed heritage, where she had come from, and what they would do with her. It was ironic that their decision was made when she had dumped a bowl of gruel over the younger healer's head.

She stopped in front of him and offered him a small package. "You is hungry?" she asked quietly.

Nodding, he gently corrected her, "Yes, Kate. I am hungry. Are you hungry?"

"Yes, I am hungry," she answered as she accepted his correction.

Would you like to share lunch with me?" he asked slowly enough for her to understand.

Kate eagerly accepted and sat down beside him on one of the rock piles. She reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a similar package of nuts and berries. Picking daintily over the package, she slowly ate the tart berries first.

Erestor smiled as he watched her. His memories shifted back to the events that led to their fateful decision to bring her to the valley. During his recovery, he was being forced to endure yet another bowl of gruel as the healer spoon fed him. His meal was interrupted as the elfling approached with a bowl of gruel and berries. Waiting patiently, she held the bowl out to the healer and said something to him in her language. In response, the healer had told her to return to her bed and he would tend her in a few minutes. Clearly, the child did not understand, and she persisted by offering her bowl again to the healer. It was reasonably clear that she wanted him to be fed the berries, and to be truthful, it looked better that what he was presently consuming.

"Bregolan, I think that the elfling is trying to share with me. Please let me try her berries," he pleaded quietly.

"The child is not a healer. Master Istuil has specifically chosen your meals to facilitate your recovery. She is too young to understand the complexities of diet and healing," he dismissed, as waved the child away.

At first, she seemed a bit surprised at the dismissal, but she persisted by saying something again and pointing to Erestor then at her bowl. She was emphatic about the food and even ate a spoonful of it in front of the healer.

Erestor watched as Bregolan was less than patient and put his food down. Turning to the child he stood up and attempted to guide her back to her bed. In a classic contest of wills, she stood there, stared up at the healer and shook her head negatively while arguing with him in her language. It was rather amusing to see her stand up to him, with her eyes flashing; until Bregolan made the fateful mistake of trying to pick her up and carry her to the bed. The elfling narrowed her eyes and with a snap of her wrist dumped the gruel over Bregolan's head and stalked her way over to her cot and sat.

The uproar that ensued was nothing less that total entertainment for all of the bed-ridden patients over the next few minutes. Bregolan stood still for a fraction of a second, then tried to wipe the gruel from his hair as he danced around the tent and roared about impudent elflings needing to be disciplined. The master healer, Istuil, walked in as Bregolan was hopping, and sidestepped quickly as the younger healer fell into a pile of soiled linens. The convalescing warriors chuckled or laughed outright to see the haughty young healer put into his place by an elfling.

"Bregolan, what is the meaning of this chaos?" the healer asked quietly.

"That, that elfling is uncontrollable," he sputtered as he pointed to the cot that the girl sat on. "She is impudent and does not follow directions. And, and, she dumped her bowl of gruel on me."

Istuil surveyed the scene and noted that Erestor was attempting not to laugh and the girl was glaring at the novice healer from her cot. When he caught her attention, she looked at the floor guiltily. "Indeed, she did. Clean yourself, and we will speak later," he directed. When Bregolan had left, he turned his attention to the Noldor lord.

"Lord Erestor, would you enlighten me as to what has occurred in my healing tent?" he asked quietly.

Erestor looked at the healer, then to the elfling on the cot. He watched as her eyes followed Bregolan's departure, and then made contact with his. Nodding to her, he beckoned for her to come to him. When she did, he turned to the healer and recounted the child's efforts to share her gruel with him and Bregolan's responses.

Istuil stood with his arms folded and listened to the young lord's retelling. He pondered this quietly for a moment then directed the child to get her overturned bowl by gesturing and pointing. When she complied, he looked at the reminder of the contents and then the child. Sniffing the bowl, he noted that the gruel had contained berries that were known to aid in healing. Shaking his head, he knew that any explanations as to how she acquired these berries would not be forthcoming. He also knew that she had a sedate disposition, and that she would not have reacted so strongly unless she was provoked; indeed, she was always trying to be helpful and supportive of Lord Erestor and the other patients. He, himself, had observed her rolling bandages on many occasions, and even helping bathe the faces of the more seriously wounded.

She was an enigma, and if the truth were to be known, he was pleased that she had reacted in such a manner. Her reactions showed that she was recovering well and that she shared the sentiments that many of the elves felt towards his novice healer. The only difference was that her youth was an acceptable excuse to tolerate what everyone else had wanted to do to Bregolan for the past few weeks. Keeping up his stern façade, he nodded to Erestor and left to speak with Lord Elrond about the youngling.

Later that evening, Elrond and Erestor spoke at length about Kate. They pondered what her fate would be in the human encampments, given her lack of ability to communicate. She was a bright child and was eager to please, but the most notable trait that she had was her utter devotion to Erestor. She did not seem to have a young or romantic love; it was more of a filial and protective love toward the Noldor lord. From the time she first protected him on the battlefield up to today's event with Bregolan, she displayed a true affinity for the elder. Reflecting on this information as well as the fact that she was born to mixed parentage, they decided to mutually accept guardianship of her and raise her with the elves. They did not know how long of a lifespan she would be graced with, but they would keep her safe and teach her in the manner of elfkind.

Now, as she sat beside him, he was able to share this simple meal and gauge her happiness. She had settled into her new life with the elves and learned quickly. The youngling rapidly became a favorite of the elves who cooked and the apprentice healers, as she would often do menial tasks to help them. They in turn would help her learn their language and patiently correct her mistakes or strangely accented words. Only he and Lord Elrond knew her true age to be about twenty one summers. To keep peace, they let everyone make their same original assumption that she was in her early forties.


	6. Family

_Kate felt a strong shove and heard an explosion, before she knew she was hit. It was strange, but there was no pain…no sensation at all…she just looked down and laughed in shock to see that her feet and legs were doing a curious sort of dance about five feet from her body. _

_She tried to move and found that she was weighted down, covered by a grotesque being that smelled worse than death itself. Its yellow eyes open to a vacant stare, and its rotted moth open in a silent eternal scream…_

_Light seemed to explode around her and her body began to jerk involuntarily at the pain that was coursing through her back. She began to scream as the pain overwhelmed her senses and futilely began trying to push or pull away from him. She didn't care where she went, she just needed to get away. Away from the agony that seemed to drown her._

_Kate heard a voice calling to her, telling her to return to the light. Slowly she grappled with the memories until she recognized Lord Elrond's voice. "Khila amin, Kate. You must leave this place and come home. Come back the light, child. It is a dream. You are safe now."_

"Come back to the light, child. It is a dream. You are safe now," he soothed. With a sigh of relief, he watched as the light came back to her eyes. Although he had touched her mind before to pull her out of these nightmares, he had never seen the horror of her death as he just witnessed it. Fighting his own inner turmoil, he took her by the hand and helped her from bed.

"Come penneth. We should get some fresh air and talk of these dreams."

* * *

Erestor was exhausted. For the past few weeks, he had worked with Lord Elrond, both night and day, to establish security for the new safe haven; organizing patrols, assigning squad leaders, lieutenants, and commanders, and delineating patrol areas and rotation schedules. Cirdan had also sent word that a contingency of elves would be arriving within a fortnight to settle into Imladris.

With all of the aforementioned duties, he also supervised the masons as they built the supportive structures and retaining walls. This was the legacy of his father, the ability to work with and understand the properties of stone. Earlier in the evening, he took some time to record the day's progress and work on the plans for the irrigation channels under the house. Lord Elrond had devised a new system of running water and sanitation in the house, and the creation of the plans rested with Erestor.

He didn't know when reverie came upon him, but he did know when it was interrupted.

"Erestor. Erestor. Erestor, you must wake. We have little time," a voice called urgently.

Erestor opened his eyes to see a very tall male elf – one that seemed familiar, though he did not know him. His mind struggled to understand his surroundings and what this being was saying to him.

"Erestor, it is time you learned of your family. Wake child, for your sister needs you."

Erestor peered at this elf and felt his irritation rise. "Who are you, and why do you speak of my sister and family?" he questioned. "They are long dead."

The tall being looked down at Erestor and smiled serenely. "Peace child. I am Manwe, and it is time that you learned the truth…"

Erestor woke in a cold sweat. His heart was racing at the Vala's story; not just any Vala had chosen to come to him, either, but the leader of the Valar. His mind screamed in shock at the truth that his father was not dead, and that he had a younger sister. Kate. The elfling that nearly died protecting him. The elfling that had been adopted by all of the elves in Imladris. The Kate that would bring him lunch and mend his robes. She was only twenty two summers, it was inconceivable that she could be his sister; but Manwe would not lie. Erestor had been little more than an elfling himself when his family had died, and yet he had a sister that was an elfling. An elfling that had lived in the future of men.

He cried as he had seen her death. Manwe had shown him the terrible future she came from. A child should not have seen such a war, let alone been conscripted to serve in it. Children should not have their innocence taken in such a fashion. The elves that had fought in the Battle of the Alliance had more honor than to involve elflings. Women and children were to be cherished and protected, not dredged to a battlefield.

He was angry, so very angry that his father could betray his family and mother by taking another woman to wife. How could he be so selfish to create another child in such a terrible world as Manwe had shown?

He was numb, he had a sister. A peredhel. She would not hold the gift of man. Manwe told him that she would be graced with the life of the firstborn.

He was overjoyed, he had a sister. One who was of his blood. He was no longer alone in Arda.

Manwe's caution had resonated within his Fea. The Vala had told him that none were to know, except for the Lord of Imladris. Erestor was to help his sister grow into her destiny, but never reveal to any others that they were related. It would change the course of Arda's future, her history, if he did. Only when they sailed for Valinor could they reveal their secret, if they chose.

He felt all of his emotions channel into a single emotion. Love. He would protect her. He would be the brother that fate had robbed him of being so long ago.

Gathering his tunic and leggings, he dressed quickly. Erestor had one purpose of mind as he sought out Lord Elrond. His sister.

******************

Kate was sitting in the great hall before the fire, nursing a cup of herbal tea. The memory of her death still lingered and Lord Elrond had made her a cup of tea. Although he was liberal with the honey, she could still taste the sedative that laced the drink. She was grateful that he understood.

They sat in companionable silence for a time, then began to talk of her dreams. It was nearly an hour before she felt the presence of her brother. He had stood in the doorway, listening. He did not interrupt them, but when she looked into his eyes, she saw that the truth had been revealed to him.

"You know," she said, quietly.

Erestor rushed forward at her voice and wrapped her in his arms. "You are my sister," he sobbed quietly into her shoulder. "I have a sister…"

Elrond watched the two as they sat clinging to each other, crying softly. He was surprised with Erestor's actions and overwhelmed with the news that they were siblings. This would be an interesting story, but not one to indulge in now. For now, he let the two elves take solace in each other.

Later after Erestor took Kate to her room, they sat and discussed this night's revelation. They spoke of Manwe's directive for secrecy and decided that Erestor would tutor her in the mornings. As she became more proficient in Sindarin, she would begin to work with the healers in the afternoon. Finally, to avoid questions, she would keep her own rooms, but be moved next to Erestor in the private wing of rooms where he and Lord Elrond stayed. They decided to keep joint guardianship over her, but given her peredhel lineage, she would be known as Elrond's ward. As they concluded their meeting, Erestor looked to the Elf Lord.

"If she is agreeable, I would give her a new name tomorrow," he ventured cautiously.

Elrond nodded, "What were you thinking, my friend?"

Encouraged, Erestor continued, "Kate McAdams will become the Lady Sedilwen. I can think of no better name, one that is more fitting, than to be known as the 'loyal elleth'."


	7. Negotiations

Chapter 7

Negotiations

Glorfindel stood on the deck, astounded by what he had just heard. Sedilwen was Erestor's sister. For yeni he had thought that they were in love. Oblivious to her thoughts, he just stared at her and watched her hair fly in the ocean breeze.

"Glorfindel. Glorfindel, are you alright, mellon?" she asked with concern lacing her voice.

"I am sorry, Sedilwen. It seems that I also am lost in my thoughts. For years, I have thought; well, I thought you to be in love with Erestor."

"Indeed. Many have thought this over the years, and we chose not to discourage the notion," she agreed. "It was safer for both of us. He has a very protective streak running through his fea."

Glorfindel laughed. "Aye. Well I remember the first time I saw him with a blade. Do you remember the early negotiations with the men from Bree?" he asked.

Sedilwen searched her thoughts and laughed heartily. "Indeed I do. I thought you and Erestor were going to kill them…"

* * *

As an elf, time had little meaning; but in the late night hours, time became relevant as hunger pangs took their toll. Of course, the aroma of freshly baked bread only served to increase the wanderlust of certain elves. Sedilwen found herself walking to the kitchens after working late into the evening.

Over the years, she had settled comfortably into her life as a peredhel. The citizens of Imladris considered her as one of their own, and she considered herself to be more of an elf than adaneth. Erestor and Lord Elrond had ensured that she wanted for nothing and had supported her when she decided not to continue in the healing arts. Sedilwen found peace in the library and satisfaction in working for her brother. As the chief counselor, he held high standards, but he was always patient with her and gave her the latitude to work independently on various special projects and agreements.

Tonight, she had been researching past trade agreements between the various elven realms and the edain. Earlier in the week, the leaders from Bree proposed an agreement that would encumber Imladris' healers with the housing of all expectant mothers for a month and the birthing of all their children in return for a share of their annual harvest. At face value this might be considered an acceptable trade, but the barter of services for goods was unreliable at best if there was a poor crop or an abnormal number of births. This agreement also did not account for the possibility of still births and emotions. As Sedilwen pondered this dilemma, the night wind carried the delicious scent of crusty bread into her room. Before she knew it, she found her feet following a path of their own into the kitchens.

As she rounded the column that guarded the kitchen entry, she noticed that Glorfindel and Elrond were sitting at the preparation table with a half a bolle and a crock of butter in front of them. The looked up rather guiltily at her, then smiled and invited her to join them.

"What brings you to the kitchens at this hour, my lady?" asked Glorfindel playfully.

She smiled and responded in kind. "I am afraid I was easily lured by the scent of fresh baked bread. I ate a light dinner, and my stomach has repeatedly reminded me of that fact. And you, my lords; have I caught you both working into the late hours?" she countered as she looked at the map spread out before them.

"Aye, Sedilwen," Elrond intoned with a small smile. "I suspect that we are working on the same issue, but in our respective areas. It seems that the edain agreement is leaving many of my counselors and captain with an unsettled feeling. Is this so with you as well?"

"It is," she answered, as she reached for the bread. "Did the cook put seeds in this loaf?" she asked.

Glorfindel smiled and cut three thick slices, then passed two of them to Elrond and Sedilwen. "Aye, the sweet ones which come from the sunflower. She also whipped honey into the butter. One might think that she plans for these late night raids," he laughed.

Elrond looked at the pair before him. "She has a sweet spot for wayward elflings and elf lords who carry her cooking water."

Glorfindel shrugged and Sedilwen gaped at her guardian before muttering into her bread, "I am over six hundred years past my majority, thank you."

"Hmph," Glorfindel snorted. "Wayward elflings, indeed. From the mouths of babes."

Elrond had the dignity to look abashed, and then began laughing.

All three elves continued with light banter until they had consumed the loaf and a pitcher of milk. When Sedilwen's hunger was sated, she excused herself and slipped out the door to find reverie.

Both elf lords watched her leave, then Glorfindel turned to his friend. "Elrond, she is enchanting. She seems to be witty and clever, so why does she hide herself away in the library?"

"Sedilwen came to us as a child. Over the past three yeni, she has grown into a capable junior advisor. Like you, my friend, she has valid reasons for seeking solitude and sanctuary in the library. For now, she is more comfortable doing research for Erestor and studying lore than pursuing the adventures of youth."

* * *

Sedilwen sat quietly on her mare and marveled at the change in the countryside. Several new houses crept up along the way, but the faces she saw were all different. Nearly two centuries ago, she had traveled out of Imladris with her brother to work as a scribe during the first negotiations. This time was different, in that she would not only work as a scribe in the new negotiations, she would also gather critical information by speaking with the womenfolk in Bree. Irregardless of the responsibility shift, she felt the wonder of her immortality as she surveyed and adjusted to the changes around her. Seeing the passage of time was slightly overwhelming since she did not feel or experience it in Imladris. For elves, the passage of time was inconsequential. It wasn't until this moment that she truly understood the magnitude of what her elven heritage gave her.

It was nearly dusk when they approached the town. As Glorfindel rode ahead to secure their lodging, she and Erestor fell back and observed the town's people. Many had seen the occasional elven traveler, but none had seen a full delegation and guards ride in. Sedilwen smiled to herself as she thought that a score of elves was only a bare minimum to handle negotiations; but to these people's thinking, it would be a memory to be passed down to the future generations.

She brought her horse up behind Erestor's and waited until he dismounted. As he reached up to her, she gathered her skirt in front of her and leaned into his arms. She never thought that having both feet on the ground would feel so good, and hoped that a hot bath would be forthcoming that night. She was one of two ellith that had traveled to Bree, accompanying Lord Erestor, that pompous twit Bregolan, Lord Glorfindel, and Master Istuil. The delegation traveled with six guards that had been chosen by Lord Glorfindel, and these elves waited on the outer fringe to protect their lords and ladies.

* * *

Bree. It was a typical medieval village that was enclosed in wooden walls. To the casual observer, the second born were continually busy with daily life – almost as if there was never enough time to accomplish their tasks. To the elves, this industriousness bordered on chaos. The edain approached their negotiations in much the same manner as their other industries, with the incessant demands of every voice clamoring to be heard.

Erestor sat in the opening rounds of negotiations listening to the men claim that they were not getting a fair trade on their harvest and that the elves should be willing to help by providing more goods to stimulate the commerce in the town. One of the men continued the argument by stating that their children were being born sickly and the elves could either give them more medicine or host the women for a month in Rivendell in trade for the excess crops that they had been getting for the past few years. As the men continued their petitions (or demands) in fervor, he was reminded of a colony of bees droning on and on. Erestor glanced at Sedilwen and noted that she recorded every demand with care and maintained a neutral expression. At least they would have accurate records to review that evening.

Sedilwen listened to the men argue their case amongst each other and took not only notes of the different points, but also which of them were making not so subtle threats against the firstborn. Her thoughts drifted to Lyriel, Bregolan, and Master Istuil. They were tasked with visiting the village healer and observing the sanitary conditions, level of training, and supply of medicines which were kept on hand. Erestor, Master Istuil and she had planned to meet after the evening meal to discuss what was learned today.

* * *

Glorfindel saw red. It was simple to him; these impudent men had just pushed too far. Erestor, Sedilwen, and Istuil sat in numerous meetings over the past two days and let these men insult them time and time again. As far as he was concerned, the elves should just leave and give the town about a yen to reconsider their position; but that was Erestor's decision, not his. At the moment however, he had more important things to consider, like whether or not he was going to kill the red haired man for threatening the Lady Sedilwen. In an effort to sway the elves (or coerce them) this barbarian had grabbed the lady and held a knife to her throat to illustrate his point about their women dying. To her credit, she didn't over-react or fight against the man; and perhaps the sound of seven elven blades being drawn was what convinced him of his folly, because he dropped her onto the floor rather quickly. And just when did Erestor begin to carry a blade? Irregardless, the man was taken into custody and the meeting was adjourned for the afternoon.

Glorfindel escorted the Lady Sedilwen to her room and waited until Master Istuil arrived and tended her properly. Despite her protests, the healer chose to clean, medicate, and bandage her throat, then commit her to bed rest for the remainder of the evening.

That night, the elves sat in Erestor's room and discussed the desperation that the townspeople had. It was obvious that they were not willing to see reason, nor were they willing to compromise what they wanted. After much deliberation, Erestor and Istuil made the decision to delay negotiations until the early Fall. Bregolan decided to stay among the edain until then, to reteach their healer the knowledge that had been lost over the centuries.

* * *

Author's note: Happy Thanksgiving to All! Thank you for taking the time to read this. Many people added this story to their fav's or PM'd me about the combat and medical realism in this story. I am proud to say that I am an honorably discharged US veteran, and that much of the realism comes from personal experience. I will not say whether or not I agree with the Gulf War, but I will say that during my service, I helped many people (both US and other). Corpsmen see human beings, not race or friends / enemies; and, as such, willingly take an oath to help all people in need.


	8. Origins

Chapter 8

Regrets

The dark haired elf stood looking over the water. He was alone, had been alone for so many millennia. Bitterly, he thought of his pride and greed. What had pride earned him? What had he gained from greed?

The great betrayer had convinced him to ply his craft, then rewarded him with praise and feelings of self importance. He alone was the master of despair, and in his folly, he lost everything.

In his memories, he watched his beloved city burned to the ground. He tried to save his wife and children. With a surreal vision, he watched his dearest wife being cut down by the deceiver himself. His children were picked off one by one with the filthy black arrows. The only one he could not find was Erestor… his son was in the hills, gathering materials for the shop.

Doing the only thing he could, he stood resolute and waited for the betrayer. He heard, no felt, the mocking voice resonate within his soul. _You have given me Arda. It is time to claim your reward…_

The horror of what he had done ripped his fea in half. He no longer cared to live, indeed he welcomed the blade as he felt it bite across his stomach. Would he be permitted entrance into Mandos' hall?

No. He was not.

As he stood in Mahanaxar, he was judged. The bond he shared with his wife was stripped away. He was neither to be given the peace of Mandos' hall nor the comfort and promise of his wife's rebirth. He was cursed to be alone. He would roam Arda until it was remade. His punishment was simple; he was to live in the world of his making. The world that arose from his pride and vanity. He would not be given the gift of death. He would be forever alone.

* * *

Year 1987 of The Fifth Age. She was beautiful, this daughter of man. She did not see him as a monster, only a man. For weeks, she had come willingly and spoken to him as he worked on a derelict boat that had washed up with the tide. Slowly, his heart began to sing. With each of her visits, he could hear the melody of Arda become stronger.

He knew he shouldn't, but once he looked into her bright blue eyes – he became lost.

He knew that he shouldn't, but once he tasted the sweetness of her lips – he became lost.

He knew he shouldn't, but once he touched her silken skin – he became lost.

And in gaining her, he lost her. She left after that one precious night and never came back.

He did not know that he wasn't alone anymore. His hroa had begat a child, one that would save his fea.

Aule briefly touched his mind. _All will be forgiven in time._


	9. Never Irritate the Quiet Ones

Chapter 9

Never Irritate the Quiet Ones

Erestor came up from below deck to see Sedilwen and Glorfindel standing at the rail. Both the elf and his sister were oblivious to the others as they laughed together and shared conversation. Eager to see what the two were up to, he advanced quietly until he was close enough to hear the conversation above the sounds of the waves.

"You always appeared so calm and serene, Sedilwen. In all of these years, I only remember the twins plying you with their mischief once. What was your secret to having such a respite from their antics?"

Sedilwen smiled briefly as she considered her answer. How could she tell the famed balrog slayer, the noble captain of Imladris' guard, what she had learned so long ago? She looked up at the golden haired warrior, until her eyes made contact with his. "Glorfindel, mellon nin, the secret was simple. To preserve my peace, I taught them to seek other targets."

Glorfindel was shocked beyond comprehension at her admission. She, the quiet Sedilwen, had TAUGHT the twins to prank others? As he continued to gape at her, the realities of whom she really was and how she had impacted them, began to settle in his mind. Had she taught them to seek him out for the many times his hair had been dyed or his choice of apparel was changed? The chaos in his mind began to settle after a moment, but there remained a pervasive thought that he couldn't yet voice, the thought that there was more to her than she let most elves see.

Seeing his opportunity to intervene politely, Erestor stepped into the conversation. "Aye, gwaleth, you did. You taught those two to prey upon other members of the house. Even I am at a loss to understand how you achieved this, when my threats, Glorfindel's vengeance and Elrond's punishments could not stop such behaviors."

Sedilwen laughed at her brother's approach and interruption. After giving him a quick hug and greeting, she searched his brown eyes deeply and did not see understanding. "Truly Erestor, after raising an elfling yourself, did you not realize what the twins needed? I simply let them be themselves. They needed to play, but more-so, they were creative, and needed an outlet for all of their energy. They chose to use pranking as their way of dealing with the stresses of Arda. It is wholly in their personalities to be playful rather than be consumed with vengeance and pain."

"Aye Sedilwen, I raised you, but in all fairness, raising an elleth is different than raising twin ellyn. You were most sensitive to correction and both Elrond and I found that simply explaining things to you had the desired affect of changing your behaviors. This didn't work with the twins. What could you have possibly done to discourage them from pranking you?"

Sensing that she was literally and figuratively caught between both warriors, Sedilwen did what she could to escape the trap. She smiled at both elves sweetly and answered, "I pranked them…"

Elrond was working on some letters when his two sons strolled into his study with a tray of tea and a light lunch. He looked guiltily outside and realized how late it had become. Both elves were quiet and fidgety, _Fidgety?, _and waited for him to speak.

"My sons, you seem a bit uncomfortable. Has something happened?"

"No!"

"Yes, Ada." Elrohir rushed.

"Well, which is it?" he asked, raising his eyebrow.

Elladan looked absolutely miserable and wouldn't meet his eyes. Elrohir described their predicament and squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. Elrond suppressed a smirk, then finally gave up and began to laugh deeply…mirth welling up from his toes. Tears came to his eyes when both ellyn stood up and helplessly scratched their backsides. _Aye, Elbereth, this is too good. Sedilwen finally took her revenge. They are hopelessly miserable!!!! What on Middle Earth did she use to create this torment?_

Erestor heard loud laughing come from the study and wondered what was happening. He hadn't heard laughing like this from Lord Elrond for centuries. His curiosity piqued, he grabbed a bunch of scrolls and casually strolled into the den…and stopped. The twins were dancing about the den, looking miserable as they scratched their backsides, male parts, and legs furiously. Elladan was growling something about female Orcs and Elrohir just muttered something about knowing better than to irritate the quiet ones.

"Ada, please help us stop the itching." Elrohir begged.

"Unfortunately, I can not. I know not what the Lady Sedilwen used to induce this state. A remedy could backfire and spread the itching to the upper part of your bodies as well." He smirked viciously as he pressed them, "Tell me my sons, what did you do to so fully incur her wrath?" Elrond's question was met with two pairs of downfallen eyes…staring at the floor of his study. His only answer was silence.

"Very well, my sons. If you can not tell me, I suggest you seek her out and beg her forgiveness. She took a guard and a group of elflings to the forest earlier today for a lesson in basic plant taxonomy. It will probably be a very long, hot, and uncomfortable walk though."

"Um, Ada…"

"Yes, Elladan. Is there something you wish to tell me, my son?

"We…uh…sort of…"

"Slipped a water snake into her bath…" Elrohir continued.

"Last night…" Elladan confessed.

"My sons, did you not remember her terror of snakes?" he chided gently.

"We…uh…thought that …." Elladan offered.

"She out grew it. We saw her pick one up when it came near one of the elflings the other day."

"Hmm. So you decided to test your theory by messing with her bath again. Well my sons, you are in a predicament. You were warned to leave her bath water alone…and you both know that she was a junior healer before she became a counselor. She does possess a solid knowledge of plants, poisons, and remedies."

Elrond mused out loud, "I suspect your itching can be one of two things…the first is a powder that she may have put into your pants, and the other would be poison ivy. In the first case, you can not wash with water, and you must use a liniment to cool the skin. If she used poison ivy, you would have to wash with soap in a very cold river. Do you see the dilemma here?"

"Aye, Ada….but what do we do?"

"My sons, only you can remedy this. You must apologize sincerely and beg her forgiveness when she returns. Until then, I suggest you remove your leggings here in the study, then return to your rooms and wear your sleep tunics until she returns."

The twins complied and left the room. Erestor walked to the door and watched their tall forms disappearing down the hall. When they were out of sight, he shut the door and started to laugh with Elrond. A third voice joined in and he looked at Elrond's desk...in time to see Sedilwen peek her head over the top. "Gwaleth," he started in shock. "My Lord, are you in on this, too?" he gaped, disbelief registering on his face.

Elrond's laughter was renewed with the shocked look on his advisor's face. "I did not pull the prank on the Twins…that was totally Sedilwen's idea…but she did come to me first to ask permission after she explained their latest transgression. I only had knowledge of the prank. Did you see the look of utter despair on their faces?"

"I hope they are miserable for the afternoon. Perhaps then I shall take pity on them. Mayhep tonight." she chuckled, with her afterthought.

"If you do not mind me asking, just what did you use to condemn those two to an afternoon of misery?" Erestor asked.

"Thistle root powder…and poison ivy," she snickered. "No matter what they do, they will suffer long and hard for messing with my bath."

* * *

The twins were strangely subdued at dinner and sat very delicately on their chairs. Sedilwen was able to keep her grin in check and almost, but not quite, felt sorry for their chafed backsides. Elrond and Erestor were able to keep straight faces, but Glorfindel knew something was amiss. Elladan and Elrohir were never this quiet. Finally he asked what had happened…and Sedilwen struggled to keep her laughter subdued. This fueled Elrond and Erestor and all three began to laugh uncontrollably as they related their story to the Captain.

The twins just sat there with red faces, sore behinds, and a new, profound fear of the Lady Sedilwen. They had never counted on the full measure of her wrath, but after this was over, they would never forget. The only pleasure they derived was that she actually pranked them. Whenever they had the urge to play, she would catch their eyes with her own and nod imperceptibly toward whomever else was in the room.


End file.
